Phoenixes
by Oreo-Child
Summary: He used to wish for infinity, until he met her. Now he's not sure if he'll ever find mortality. Spencer/Original
1. 1: The Conception Of Pyromania

Ch. 1

**THE CONCEPTION OF PYROMANIA**

The young, awkward man had just finished scribbling the information for his team's office on the whiteboard in outstanding black, the kind of bold coloring you get when you write with a new dry-erase marker. ".... And with that, we conclude our lecture. As a member of the FBI, I can't begin to explain how vital it is for your interest in possible recruitment."

Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid looked about the room of the early-twenty-somethings, and felt that familiar dread that less than half of this room would even think about this career again, let alone the number of those who would actually try to pursue it.

However, he kept a light smile on his lips, and with Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi on the opposite side of the board, he hoped that there was enough confidence radiating from the front of the room to influence the hopeful future staffers.

"Are there, um, any questions for either me or my associate, Agent Rossi?" He asked the younger adults in a positive manner, but internally he was swimming in doubt. At the beginning of the oration, he already noticed a few individuals looking rather disengaged, so it was no shock that no one raised their hand or spoke up.

But he did notice **her**. The girl two rows from the back, three seats from the center of the aisle, with her head slightly leant to the right and her eyes fixated on Reid. Her eyes have been primarily focused on Reid the entire time (53 and a half minutes, he roughly counted).

Before the lecture and during the times which Rossi took control of the dialog, Reid used his profiling skills and evaluated each and every attendee by their physical appearances and actions, subtle (outfits, posture while sitting, style of their hair, and so forth) or not (he was quite sick of seeing the guy in the back who couldn't find any other release than inserting his finger in his nose and digging around for a prize).

He was leaning against the front wall when they first came in, furthest from the students and partially shrouded by the shadow of transportable white board, and from that position he viewed them. At first, this younger woman (whose name he had yet to figure out, for her long dark-brown hair was covering up the name-tag (the class was issued these by volunteers when they entered the room)) seemed a sad but very common stereotype: someone who's viewed multiple crime dramatizations, most of which were the 'less-fact-than-fiction' kind. Her face was expressing boredom almost immediately as she sat down. _What did you expect, a crime-scene reenactment? _Reid wished he could say this to most of those who attended any of the discussions (or lack there of)._ Go join the CSI unit. _

As time went by, more and more of the group found things like cell phones and doodling (and, as mentioned before, booger hunting) more entertaining than the conversation. But it was the mystery girl who proved to be apart from the herd, for her lack of caring dissipated as soon as Reid stepped forward after being introduced by Rossi. Her eyes widened and she sat upright instantly. She gradually gained intrigue, especially when Reid finally began speaking. She was hanging onto his every word, leaning forward as if she had difficulty understanding what was being said.

So it actually surprised him that she didn't respond to the Q&A prompt. But her face looked pained, as if she wanted to ask something. _What is stopping you,_ he wondered.

He didn't stress over it for long, though, and he gave his partner the signaling nod that meant 'okay, we're done here.' Rossi put on a grateful smile (grateful that they had an audience, anyways), clapped his hands together once, and spoke loudly, "Thank you all for your time this evening. We'd appreciate seeing some of you again."

There was lackluster applause, and then the attendees began to disperse, most too eager to leave. Reid and Rossi turned their back to the exodus so they could collect their material. "Well," Reid muttered, "that wasn't absolutely horrendous..."

Rossi barked a quiet laugh. "The only way that could've been worse is if they all committed a mass suicide/sacrificial orgy in front of us." Reid sighed and continuing stacking papers.

"What are the chances-"

Reid was cut off by his older comrade. "I dunno. Super bloody rituals aren't that common anymore, you know that. Especially in a public place? And aren't you Mr. Random Facts and Statistics? I believe I should be the one asking you."

"I, uh, actually meant 'what are the chances any of them will attempt to join the FBI?'"

Rossi gave Reid an apologetic look. "You know I'm kidding. But still, we don't usually put too much hope in the 80's generation, save one." He bumped shoulders with his younger cohort, a signal of his friendship and trust in him. Reid couldn't help but smile, and he returned the gesture.

"Do I really count in that category, though?"

"I didn't say _19_80's, you fogy." Rossi joked.

Reid was about to retaliate until he heard an, "Excuse me." Both men turned abruptly at the soft voice, but somehow Reid knew who it was before the visual caught up with the sound.

The mystery girl was standing in front of the rows of tables, one hand holding onto a notebook and the other shoved into her tight jean pocket. _Forced_ _passivity_, Reid duly noted. She was trying to keep eye contact with Rossi, but her sights kept flicking towards the other agent.

"How may we help you, miss?" Rossi queried with a peaceful grin.

"I was wondering if I could converse with Dr. Reid." Her gaze finally stayed in one spot- Reid's face."... _Mano a mano_."

Both of Reid's eyebrows rose, while only one of Rossi went up. "Um, I don't think that's an issue. Reid, do you have anything objections?"

His first thought went back to a past recruitment session that ended with a serial killer not only turning himself in and admitting to killing seven women, but he also kidnapped a woman and four children earlier that day. _How likely was that to happen again?_

But the only thing threatening about this woman was how piercing her dark hazel irises were, especially set against her honey-like mulatto skin. Her plump light-rose lips, fault-less nose, Monroe-style beauty marks (one high on her right cheekbone near the corner of her eye, the other on the side of her nose)- all of these features were highly distracting, but not as much as her eyes...

"None at all." He answered after a second's hesitation, and her eyes sparkled, as if pleased.

"Thank you," she said, giving him a minute, crooked smile. "And thank you for that informational lecture today, Agent Rossi." She bowed her head quickly and offered her hand. She stopped looking at Reid momentarily, just to show Rossi respect.

"No problem, sweetheart," he responded while shaking her hand, "Hey, Reid, do you mind clearing the board and hitting the lights before you leave?" Reid nodded mechanically, staring at the ground, feeling her concentration come back on him. "I'm off to enjoy my night, and I hope you two will do the same." And with that, Rossi left the room and closed the door behind him. Over her head, Reid watched Rossi give him a thumbs up on the other side of the window. He left from view chuckling.

Now it was just Reid and the mystery girl, neither of them speaking for couple of agonizing seconds. That whole time, Reid could feel her staring through his skin, all the way to his core. And he didn't know if he minded or not. He had to break this silence...

He turned his back and picked up the eraser. "Ah, what did you want to speak about?" He forced his voice to stay as steady as possible, but he knew those eyes were staring so hard at his back, he wondering if they would burrow holes through to his chest. He began clearing the words and artless images off the makeshift canvas.

"Depends," her voice was so unnaturally soothing, it almost made him uneasy. "How well do you respond to criticism?"

That was so far from what he expected her to say that he was tempted to turn back around. But she was indiscreetly **beautiful**; he feared what may come out of his mouth while he looked at her. "Pretty well, I suppose," he stated with false confidence. He didn't even realize that his hand had stopped when she asked the queer question. He swiftly restarted, hoping she took it as him thinking, not him being caught off guard.

"Good to know, because I've made an observation," she said, "and I think you misspoke, but maybe I'm wrong..." The way her words trailed off triggered a sympathetic instinct to face her and comfort her.

_Don't, Spencer. You don't know this woman. _He continued clearing the board.

"No, no," he hoped the verbal approach would be good enough for her, "Mistakes are a necessary part of life. It wouldn't matter to me if I made an error," _Though I'm fairly sure I didn't. _"Please, go on."

"Well, you were explaining how mathematical and geographical methods are frequently used assets in your investigations, as crime scene, prolific, and even preliminary indicators of what defines the 'Unsub' and any other past, present, and future offenders," _Was that one breath?_ "And you were beginning to tell us the commonality of how many stalkers occur per state capita. Now, unless I was told wrong in that textbook, California has an area of... Hold on."

She flipped the notebook open, and flicked to the page that was covered top to bottom with tiny, slightly disconnected script. "...163,700 square miles." She closed the pad and shrugged her slipping purse back onto her shoulder. It may have been the most fascinating mundane task he'd ever laid eyes on. "It may not matter to most folks, but you said 163,696, and I can't have stand doubt of precision. Part of my inferiority complex, I guess."

Reid's hand stop moving again. "You, an inferiority complex?" he was amused, but immediately regretted it transferring into his words.

He heard her voice rise a few notes. "Yes, and if you knew it already, I'd appreciate it if you would stop toying with me about it."

_Spencer, don't you dare. Just keep your cool. _"To be honest, you approached me, initiated the conversation, spoke with grace," _Not to mentioned the eye contact._ "So you have to excuse my disbelief."

"Dr. Reid, I find it hard to think it as coincidence that a professional profiler has stood with his back to a person with a lack of confidence." She didn't bother hiding the frustration in her voice.

_Spencer... No. It's almost over._

Reid continued to keep his voice even. "But that's the thing. It wasn't an intentional occurrence at a-"

She blew up. "Then why do you insistently wipe a board that's already blank?!"

"What?" It was true- The board in front of him was so white it almost looked unused. He had one of two options: tell **the** truth, or tell **another** truth. "I'm... a very meticulous person?"

His skin prickled at the sound of his excuse, but swore the sensation was of the daggers she was mentally throwing at his back. "Sorry I bothered you in the middle of your oh-so important work, then." She grumbled, and started storming off. He bit his lip and hung his head

_Good job, she's obviously a mildly disturbed individual._

And he agreed with his inner voice...

For a fraction of the time it takes light to travel 2 meters, anyways.

"Hey!" He called after her, but she didn't stop and went out the room. He snatched his bag from the front desk and promptly pursued her, remembering to turn off the light and closing (well, more like accidentally slamming) the door behind him. She was in the darkened entrance way of the nearest exit to the campus. "Wait up! Please!"

Suddenly she stopped moving, but the way her shoulders rose and sank made Reid extremely wary, but he still walked up to her.

"Look," he said in a low voice behind her, "I apologize. It's just that..."

She turned around, and even in the darkness there was short-lived fury in her eyes. But the genuine look of remorse on his face replaced the rage with compassion. Either way, he was transfixed again. "What is it?" her calming voice made him feel self-assured, as if he could tell her anything right now.

"I-uh, I-I," _So much for confidence. _He cleared his throat of imaginary obstructions and tried again at a sort of rapid pace. "Today felt like it was going nowhere, and then you wanted to talk to me, and I thought it was gonna be something like, 'Do I get to wear a bulletproof vest?' or something like that. Not like I thought that about you personally," he saw her eyebrow begin to raise and clarified his rationale, "It's a common question. And you don't look like a common girl, quite far from it. In fact," he abruptly stopped speed talking for heat started spreading through his cheeks and let the words flow, "I knew it when I first saw you. Somehow, I did, and the question you had for me was kinda out of the ordinary."

She was looking downwards now, embarrassed. He wasn't sure if she was okay with the turn of the conversation. "Um... I heard California is 163,696 square miles, but if the area of a state is a whole number it probably was rounded up by a census, so don't assume I'm completely right about this."

She stayed silent, and looked as if the floor was the most amazing invention since the ceiling. Instead, Reid asked his own question, one that was nagging at him. "Did you really want to wait until after class to ask me that, just to spare my feelings in case I was wrong?"

As if she was expecting this, she rose her eyes, and the vixenish way she glanced through her lashes briefly made his breath stick in his throat. _Was I supposed to inhale or exhale next? _"No. Of course I didn't."

His palms started sweating. "Then why-"

His confusion ceased when she lifted her head entirely and stared deep into his eyes again. This time, however, she seemed to be nonverbally daring him to break this, and he just wasn't willing to face whatever the consequences may be. "Dr. Reid, I think you damn well know why I stayed after the class."

He thought on this (while forcing his eyes not to dart around), and he knew she could see the cogs spinning in his head. A few seconds later, he said, "You wanted alone time with me."

"No, I wanted to know if I was allergic to Kevlar or not," the sarcasm was her sign of mental liberation, "Of course I wanted alone time. And so I pulled a fact out of the lecture and turned it into a reason to gain some one-on-one with you."

"You... Already knew..."

"Cunning, aren't I?" Her eyes were sparkling with the red EXIT sign illumination, and way the lights bounced off of them made him feel like a moth flying around the perimeter of a flame, and he had to have it...

"And you," she took a small step closer, and his need for the fire increased thousand fold, "are just so cute." The way her breath hit his collar bone placed goose bumps on the exposed skin above his vest.

He knew he was blushing now, and he knew she could sense it, for she reached out and touched his face with her fingertips, despite the fact they knew each other for about an hour (barely). _Wait a minute._

"What's, ah, what's your name?" He had to know. This girl, these feelings, this... _connection._ It was all too sudden, and he knew he'd couldn't go further than this if he didn't know her name soon. "'Cause you kind of know mine."

She tossed her hair back, and spoke, "Lauryna. Plank."

_Wow._

She moved her hand down and took a step back. He (cautiously) moved his eyes southwards, and saw she was offering her hand to shake.

He gripped it and looked back at her with a sheepish grin. "Reid comma Spencer."

Her mouth transformed into a dazzling smile, and he felt his heart stop.

_Again, wow._

"Well, Reid _comma_ Spencer, would you mind walking me to my car?" She said, leading him by the hand out the door.

"Of course- of course not." In fact, Reid was thrilled by the outcome of this night. _I highly doubt I had the option to refuse, her grip is so tight around my hand. _"My pleasure."

They arrived at her vehicle a few moments later, and as she was getting into her car, a thought struck him. She had just turned on the car and rolled the window down to wish him goodnight when he asked, "Are you sure you have an inferiority complex?"

She giggled. "Yeah. I'm shorter than you, aren't I?" With that, she leaned out the window, kissed him on the cheek (which made him go redder than a stop sign), and handed him a slip of paper. "Night, Spence." And she drove off.

Reid didn't realize he was standing there cheesing like an idiot until his phone started buzzing in his pocket. He pulled it out and just flipped it open without looking at the caller ID. "Hello."

"What did that young lady want?" It was a humored Rossi, but by the sound of it, Reid was on speakerphone, for he heard various snickering in the background.

_Tell __**the**__ truth, or tell __**another**__ truth..._

He looked at the slip of paper, at how he knew something so wonderful existed, for a cursive _Lauryna _followed by ten digits rested between his fingertips. And he made his decision.

"...she wanted to know the area of California."


	2. 2: Are We Pt 1

Ch. 2.1

**HUMAN**

She had been jogging on that path in the woods for about a half an hour, but the demons just kept up, never allowing her to escape their radar. She just stopped where she was, her nerves beginning to shake. She had been going at varying speeds; she went slow with hopes they would pass her, and went fast when she wanted to trip them up. But it was night, and so it was their territory. She needed help. They were gonna pin her down again, right in the middle of the dark and the middle of the forest. Her breath had become a Benedict Arnold, making her beg for sustenance. No one would rescue her from the attack this time, and maybe they'll finally win the war...

*..._Gonna turn this thing around, can you read my mind?* _

Her ringer scared her for a moment (but never as much as the monsters), but in the next instance she was digging it out of the Velcro holder on her arm, desperation- currently the closest thing she had to willpower- and delight driving her. She pushed the device against her ear and pushed the green button on the thumb pad.

"Hello?" she answered breathlessly, not minding the unfamiliar number.

"Hi, Lauryna?"

Already his voice brought fresh air into her lungs, and she could tell the demons hadn't expected her to start recuperating this soon. "Hi, *gulp* Reid comma Spencer."

"You sound tired. Is, uh, this a bad time or.."

"No, it's fine. I was just taking myself a night jog, *deep breath* that's all."

"Oh?" he sounded confused. "It's kinda late, you know. But, then again, I'm calling you at eleven-thirty p.m. so I really shouldn't be preaching." He emitted a nervous chuckle, and another shot of relaxation flowed through her body. "Um, if you wanna finish your jog I can call you back. I mean, I just got home and I didn't-"

"Do you have to go?" she didn't care how much she needed to plead; she couldn't succumb to the darkness. Not tonight. "I... I really wanted to hear your voice again, but I wasn't sure if you played by the three-day rules."

There was silence on the other end of the phone, and she assumed he thought she was psychotic. That's the type of people he dealt with on a regular basis with his job, right? But to her surprise, he laughed again, this time amused and louder.

Shortly after, he explained (probably because she had remained mute) in a quiet, humbled voice. "I spent... Almost the entire drive home wondering if **you** believed in the three-day rule. I kept thinking, 'She's gonna think I'm a loser, just because I really want to talk to her before her boyfriend makes her fall in love with him again."

It was silent again, but she broke that with her giggling. _He thinks I'm in a relationship? __**He **__must be the crazy one. _

He joined in with her, and they shared that laughter, both reveling in the sound of the other's joy.

When it finally trailed off, Lauryna asked timidly, "I'm... getting kinda afraid. Of the dark. Can you talk to me, at least until I get home?"

She could feel him smiling widely through the phone. "I wouldn't mind one bit. I'll talk to you as long as you'd like."

She didn't even realize she was twisting a lock of hair around her finger during the conversation, and she just pulled her hand of her hair and started jogging again, letting his voice lead her towards her apartment.

All the while, the shadow fiends had retreated, waiting again for the sense of safety to disappear beneath her feet, and they would catch her...

~two weeks later~

Reid knew something strange was amidst the office of the BAU before he even passed through the elevator. The sight of one of the bureau's most elusive members just beyond the opening doors made uncomfortable ripples travel under his skin. _Something must be wrong for her to be out here. _He pushed open the door and mentally geared himself for whatever.

"Don't you dare walk in here without enlightening us of how your evening went." Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia was standing there with her tweed sleeves crossed, eyes focused behind her oval frames on the thin man who just entered the threshold. "You didn't think we were gonna find out about all your 'secret' rendezvous?"

He furrowed his brow in perplexity. "My what?"

Garcia rose her hand and immediately pulled it back with a huff, as if she was gonna smack the answer into Reid's head. "You know I don't appreciate it when people play dumb, especially prodigies."

He threaded his fingers through his hair, at a complete loss. "Garcia, there are no secret rendezvous- Ow!" This time she really did hit him, landing a sharp rap atop his head.

"Feel the wrath of my purple, fuzzy-tipped pen," she threatened, waving her weapon of choice in front of his face (which was scrunched up in minor pain), "And if you lie to moi again, I'll be sure to deliver this same message."

He rubbed the smarting spot and- after checking for potential blood- dropped his hand to his side. "Geez," he muttered, eyeing the _very_ solid pen she kept flicking back and forth in her hand. "I wish I knew what I did to deserve that."

Garcia was going in for a second attack of Reid's skull when a strong grip caught her by the wrist in mid strike. "Give the kid a break, Penelope."

Behind her, SSA Derek Morgan held Garcia's armed hand above her head. Her eyes lit up the way they always did when Morgan's presence was around, and they seemed ready to dance out of their sockets as he elegantly twirled her about like regal ballroom dancers to face him. "Derek, thank God." Reid said with utmost sincerity, but Morgan waved him off in a silencing fashion. Reid closed his mouth in a flat frown and decided to watch the scene in front of him.

"You know as well as I do," Morgan spoke to Garcia in a not-so-personal volume, "that Reid has as much of a love life as a tree branch-"

"Hey!" the offended interjected.

"...Maybe even less-"

"HEY!"

"-so he may be honestly clueless." Morgan continued, his eyes never straying from Garcia's. "I mean, this kid can read an entire encyclopedia collection in an hour, remember every word even, and you expect him to be a smooth operator like Yours Truly?" Garcia shook her head numbly, but she was aware that it was a rhetorical question- she just had a hard time _not_ responding to the mocha-skinned man in front of her.

"Besides," he lowered her hand but kept a hold of it as he stood next to a slightly irritated Reid, "if he really were having 'secret meetings,' with an unknown individual, he works for the BAU. The BA-fucking-U." For the first time in 60 seconds, Morgan looked at something that wasn't Garcia- Reid- and she made a barely audible sound of disapproval.

"So?" Both she and Reid asked curtly.

"'So?' _So_, it's our job to identify unknown individuals, right?" He looked from Reid (who was beginning to appear uncomfortable) to Garcia, and back to Reid (who definitely looked uncomfortable now) before saying, "And what's a better a better starting point than reviewing victimology?" Understanding shone through Garcia's face, and after sharing a deep look with Morgan, the pair turned their heads to stare at their young colleague.

Reid had began to inch away when he realized what Morgan was planning to do, but actually tried to hightail it back outside when a heavy arm caught him by the chest and wheeled him around. He didn't even bother struggling or arguing, so instead Reid stated, "I don't like being referred to as a victim," with a miserable expression on his façade.

Morgan laid one hand casually on Garcia's middle back and the other more controlling on Reid's shoulders. "I know, Pretty Boy." A fabulous smile crossed Morgan's mouth as he led the trio toward the currently empty Conference Room.

Morgan closed the door behind them and the coy look on his handsome face told Reid he was in for a humiliating experience. Instead of taking a seat, Reid kept walking around the room, trying to pick his brain for these supposed secret meetings, although the likelihood of him forgetting something like that was severely improbable. In other words, he had a lot of picking to do.

"When you look at Spencer, Pen, what kind of impression do you get from him?" Morgan started the 'investigation.'

Garcia (who was the only one who sat down, for Morgan was guarding the door and watching Reid orbit around the round table) looked up, startled be the question. "Oh, love, I'm not a profiler. You know that."

"Baby Girl, I'm not asking you to be," Morgan's way of turning females into the most moldable of putty was one of the traits Reid occasionally found himself envying. "I want you to act as if there's a general woman's mind replacing you oh-so-extraordinary one, that's all."

"Well, when a stud muffin like you puts it like that..." Garcia looked as if she was going to lunge herself at Morgan, and he grinned devilishly (possibly the only way he knew how). For a few seconds, she visually examined the striding Reid, who had yet to cease. "I'd say... He's cute and approachable, but only if I could do most of the talking. Otherwise, the conversation may be a bore," was her verdict.

"I thought only guys could see it," Morgan noted.

"I'm still here," Reid added absentmindedly as he passed by yet again, but the other two went on as if he said nothing.

"Point at hand." Garcia said.

"Right," Morgan continued, stroking his chin, "Well, if it's this obvious, then anyone could be attracted to him."

"But it's more than mere attraction, for she's a repeat offender," Garcia reminded him.

"True, true." Morgan rubbed his hands together, watching the never-stopping form of Reid, who was trying too hard not to get lost in his head. "Garcia, can you now pretend you're on a second date with Reid?"

"You are now aware that I think you have a role play fetish?" Garcia teased him from across the room. All Morgan could do was smile even more. "Alright," she responded after a moment's reflection, "to date Reid, I think I'd have to be somewhat bossy, or else I'd hear about Star Trek or quantum physics all day."

_"Shh. No space travel theories right now, hun. You didn't finish that story about the cannibal..._

"What else? Ah, I'd have to be a bright girl, able to grasp concepts really well..."

_"So, wait. You used a Renaissance and Enlightenment-era based geometric sequence with an almost basic geographical radius to locate five missing innocents __and__ deceive a self-proclaimed evil genius? You should've gotten a bonus that Christmas."_

"...have to have a common interest or hobby with him..."

_"Nothing says 'I'm not in the mood for physical activity' like some light music and a really good novel while I'm curled up under an extremely fluffy comforter. Ooh, and a frappachino."_

"...and probably a little strange, but in a charming or funny way."

_"So we should definitely rob a bank together. We'll get away with it, the way we just stole each other's heart. Ha."_

"Is that her, Reid?" Morgan asked cockily, aware that his team member had (most likely unconsciously) slowed down on his constant path.

"You just described my new f-friend to a T," Reid responded, his fingers flicking about in front of his and his thoughts still returning to past conversations he and Lauryna engaged in.

"Friend, huh?" Morgan poked Reid in the ribs when he went by once again. "That's what they all say, man."

"Well, it's the truth," Reid defended himself, recalling how seemingly platonic their interactions were when he spent time with Lauryna.

_The girl none of them know about._

_My 'secret.'_

_Secret 'rendezvous.'_

"Shit, he said under his breath, but Garcia didn't miss the curse, for instead of going around for an umpteenth time, he stopped unexpectedly in front of her.

"She must be something special to make the Good Doctor swear," she remarked, eyeing the rectangle in Reid's pocket.

Morgan watched the plain-to-spot signal Garcia was making with her eyes, and he began making his way towards the other occupants of the room without alarming Reid. "Special enough to not wanna introduce her to us yet."

"It's not like that. Besides, personal and professional lives should stay as separate as plausible," Reid said, as if mechanically quoting a rule book- which he was. He kept thinking how...ridiculous it would be if he were dating Lauryna. _Yeah, she thinks I'm attractive, as I think she is as well. And we've hung out numerous of times these past few weeks, but it was to get to know each other. Nothing more... I think._

"Sorry sugar," Garcia said sympathetically, her hand inconspicuously snaking over his thigh, "but sometimes, your work family feels too much like your real family. And when one part of your family isn't cooperating," Reid, still oblivious to the rather simplistic plan, didn't feel the careful fingers weaving down into his corduroy pocket, "you have the right to take matters... Into your own hands."

The next instance happened so fast, Reid couldn't believe he didn't foresee it: Morgan had slipped behind him, and as Garcia withdrew Reid's cell phone, Morgan grabbed the younger man's wrists and pinned them behind his back. "Good teamwork," Morgan complimented the tech expert. She nodded once, her thumb swiftly pushing buttons to view Reid's recent contacts list.

"...an 'L. Plank' was called 45 minutes ago," Garcia said almost as soon as the phone was in her hand, "and the call ended about five minutes ago."

"Right before you came into work, playboy," Morgan joked, easily restraining a 'fighting' Reid.

"This is a complete violation of privacy and personal space," he argued, getting no closer to his phone.

"You think so?" Morgan countered, "Try this on for size: Garcia, call her."

"What?!" Reid exclaimed.

"You got it." Garcia shot a smirk at the two males (mainly at Morgan, of course) as she hit the green CONNECT button, then the speaker feature. The phone rung loudly on the table for a couple of seconds, then...

A low female voice greeted them with a, "Hellooo, nurse." (Garcia stifled a laugh and Morgan looked curiously at Reid, who stood like a ice sculpture). "I didn't think this is how soon you meant by 'call you back later.'"

"Left her wanting more, Pretty Boy?" Morgan whispered in Reid's ear (which had turned red with the rest of his face when Lauryna's greeting came through the phone) before saying aloud, "Actually, this is Agent Derek Morgan, I work with Spencer. With me is Penelope Garcia." Reid began to open his mouth, but Morgan quietly hissed, "Not a word, or you'll _really_be embarrassed."

"Oh, hello," Lauryna said with a different type of enthusiasm (she dropped the sexy and put on more friendly), as if apologetic for her prior behavior, "I've heard a lot of things about you two, as well as the rest of the team."

"Good things, I presume," Garcia chimed in, always ready to accept a compliment.

"More like fantastic, which is the only way to trip the light," Lauryna quoted one her favorite expressions.

"... You," Garcia started to speak after shooting a look at Reid that read _Did you tell her to say that?_ (To which he answered with a tiny shake of his head), "are one line away from Instant Oracle Fondess."

"Really?" said the amused woman on the other line, "There has to be a catch somewhere."

Morgan chuckled at Garcia's face then, which showed nothing short of a pampered ego. "Hey, she already has enough people around here to make the kid in her squeal in delight," he commented aloud, watching the tech spread her ruby-tinted lips into a zealous display of pearly whites.

"That is **so** not the 'kid' in me squealing, doll," she corrected him, but seeing as Garcia's mental dictionary seemed to be void of the word "personal," she did not speak the smutty remark privately. Thus, two dynamically different reactions occurred: Morgan and Lauryna laughed (the latter, not akin to Garcia's sense of humor, was more profuse) while Reid wore a simultaneously appalled and confused expression. _That will scar me for some time_, he thought darkly. _Maybe longer_.

"Spencer said you two were quite the duo of wit and charm," Lauryna said after regaining breath and composure. "That must come in handy with your line of work."

"And then some." Reid always assumed Garcia had a cheeky response for every slight innuendo- she just needed the set-up.

"But aren't those the type of qualities many of the world's most heinous criminals instill and eventually perfect in order to lure their victims to their doom and/or demise?"

The sudden muteness of the room almost made Reid burst into hysterics- that, and the fact that he figured out where her logic was headed.

When she received no answer, Lauryna continued, "I'm just saying. 'Cause there's no way you could get Spencer Reid's phone without cunning, conning, or coercing him."

Garcia seemed to finally release her tongue from the grip of an unseen cat, and took some feistiness with her. "... And which 'c' method did you use?" She asked with a joking sneer.

"The only 'c' that combines all three- cuteness." The two women shared a knowing laugh while the men started their own quiet conversation.

"You are whipped," whispered a tickled Morgan to a bemused Reid (whose wrists were still locked in a finger bind.)

"I don't think so," Reid tried to deny in a low voice, but it feebly broke at the end. As soon as the squeak escaped his lips, he immediately regretted the way it sounded more like he was _in_ denial.

"Not... Yet," Morgan said with a little laugh, and Reid had that ominous feeling that his teammate was far from incorrect. That was the point in which he decided to tune back in to the women, only to learn that Lauryna was saying goodbye.

"...and it was nice speaking with you guys, but I gotta skedaddle. My Quik-Quotes Quill didn't come by owl yet, so I'm actually gonna have to tackle this Mark Twain essay."

Garcia turned her head and mouthed to Reid, "I. Love. Her."

"We gotta hang out some time, darlin'," Morgan added, nonchalantly easing back into the conversation.

"For sure," Lauryna agreed. "See ya, guys. Oh, and Spencer," all the eyes in the room snapped to the phone on the table at the sound of the young doctor's name (Morgan let go of Reid's hands, now that the jig was up), "I totally left those DVDs at your place; if you get the chance tonight, can you run them back to the rental store, or can I just break into your apartment and get them?"

The suddenness of being put on the spot made Reid hot in the face, and he hoped it wasn't a visible heat. "Yeah, you-" His voice squeaked with what he assumed was lack of use, and he cleared his throat of non-existent particles before speaking again. "I'll- I will call you if I can't return them by midnight."

"Sweetness," she said too happily; Reid had the sinking suspicion that she'd rather play Undercover Agent and use the key above his doorframe to sneak into his home. Or maybe already had. "TTYL." And with that, the call ended.

Morgan made kissy faces at Reid- who was all too glad to grab his phone and stash it in his pocket- while Garcia giggled like she stumbled upon a trove of expensive electronics. "You are so under her spell," she called behind him as he almost ran out the room.

_Not yet._


End file.
